


At Least We're Not Boring

by lightning_buggie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Rating May Change, in one chapter, the sliiiightest bit of gency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightning_buggie/pseuds/lightning_buggie
Summary: McCree wasn't often swayed by beautiful women, but one night in a lonely bar in Castillo, he just couldn't help himself. He didn't expect to like her so much, let alone take her back to his motel.And he really didn't expect to see her again many years later, on the other side of the war.





	1. A Chance Encounter

**PAST**

McCree sat, tired and alone, on a too-small wooden stool in a tiny bar in Castillo. He’d been to this place a few times before - Blackwatch work took him to Dorado often enough and this was the only bar within driving distance where he wouldn’t be recognized. The place was as quiet as ever, with only a handful of grungy looking patrons, each hunched over their own shallow drinks. McCree wondered briefly how the bar even managed to stay in business, given that most everyone he saw there would show up in the town obituary the following week.

McCree stared at his own barely touched whiskey as the bar lights danced against the amber liquid. It hadn’t been long since Venice, and the stress of work was really starting to get to him. A younger him would have thrown the drink back and ordered another, but he still supported Overwatch, and getting drunk when he could be needed somewhere felt irresponsible. He instead took a tiny sip, letting the flavour settle on his tongue before putting the glass back down.

“You would think a  _vaquero_  could drink a little more than that.” A voice behind him snickered.

McCree turned to see a young woman standing with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. She took a seat on the stool next to him, not seeming to notice or care how out of place she looked in a bar full of lonely, roughed up men. McCree wondered when she’d come in, as he was certain he would’ve remembered her pink hair and long pink nails (now tapping rhythmically on the bartop) had he seen her before. The woman was a few years younger than him, dressed in a simple tank and shorts, and far too pretty to be wasting her time with a battered cowboy. Any other night McCree would’ve considered himself lucky to be talking to her, but tonight he was tired. He glanced at her hair again, this time noticing that it was actually a mohawk that had been parted down the middle and combed down, rather than a simple bob. At least she looked stranger than he did.

“You don’t have to drink to get drunk, darlin’.” he said, taking another sip of his drink and wishing he were in fact drunk.

“ _Si_ , but I consider that a waste.” She tutted before waving to the bartender, who nodded in response.

McCree considered getting up and leaving right then, but he had too much of his drink left and it was far too early in the night to go to bed. No, he decided he would stay here and entertain the woman for a bit before heading out. At least it would be a good distraction.

Her eyes glanced over the bottles of liquor adorning the wall across from them. McCree assumed she was picking one out. She stared straight ahead as she asked him, “So what’s a cowboy doing so far from the stables?”

He had to chuckle at that. He watched as the bartender came over and placed a glass of liquid in front of her. McCree wondered what it was, considering he hadn’t heard her order anything. The woman noticed him staring at her drink and raised it up to him. “Now  _this_  is a whiskey. You should try some.”

“I’ll stick to mine for tonight, but thanks.” He took a sip of his own drink. It tasted harsh and familiar, which McCree suddenly realized was the last thing he wanted.

“Kind of sad, drinking alone, isn’t it?” Her words didn’t match her playful tone, as she looked at him slyly, a single eyebrow raised.

“You tell me, seems like you came here by yourself too.” McCree scoffed, returning the jest. It was a bit sad and he knew it, but no way was he going to admit it.

“ _Si_ , but I came here to see you.” She said, casually taking another sip of her drink.

McCree almost choked on his whiskey, suddenly on high alert. He composed himself before speaking. “You came here to see me?”

“A bored girl in the streets of Castillo walks past a bar and notices a  _vaquero_  sitting by himself, looking all lonely.  _Si_ , I came to see you. Never met a cowboy before, very interesting.” She leaned her elbow against the bartop, head resting on her hand as she smiled at him. He couldn’t help but laugh and take notice of how cartoonishly vibrant she looked in contrast to the pale yellow walls of the less-than-beautiful establishment. The warning signs hadn’t disappeared, but the woman’s smile was far warmer than McCree had expected it to be. It caught him off guard, and slowly he felt his resolve dropping. Maybe it was the liquor. He should probably stop drinking.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not all that interesting.” He lied through his teeth. He knew she didn’t believe him when she called the bartender over and ordered two more glasses. The bartender brought them over immediately and she slid a glass over to McCree. He gave her a questioning glance, but she was too busy finishing off her first drink to notice. McCree stared at the drink for a moment, then back at the woman. He limited himself to a small sip, and was surprised by how much he liked it.

“I like your taste in liquor.” He said, impressed, before taking another sip and trying to memorize the new flavour.

“Only the best,  _amigo_.” She pointed a manicured nail toward a bottle on the top shelf of the bar’s display. McCree didn’t recognize the label, but it was certainly a whiskey, and certainly far more expensive than anything he’d ever had before. He almost felt guilty drinking it, thinking of how much money she had just spent on him. But it was delicious, and he had another sip.

“You really know how to treat a man.” He chuckled.

“You’re too sweet.” She replied, mockingly. McCree took a larger sip while watching the woman. He hadn’t expected to meet anyone that night (and certainly hadn’t planned to take anyone home) but then again, very little of McCree’s life had gone according to plan. As he stared into her purple eyes - subconsciously linking the colour to the smoky taste of his drink - he grew irritated by how many other people were in the bar with them, and wished they would all go home so he could talk to the woman in private. Her voice pulled him out of his trance.

“Maybe if you’re good I’ll show you how I really treat a man.” She purred, back to smirking.

McCree slowly put down his drink. The woman stared back at him devilishly, completely confident in her words. He turned his body completely towards her and lowered his voice as he spoke.

“I don’t think I caught your name, darlin’.”

“Valeria.” She replied without hesitation.

“Well, Valeria.” McCree took the woman’s free hand in his, whispering the words against her knuckles. “Might I say I feel lucky to have met you.”

 

* * *

 

The slightly tipsy pair stumbled out of the bar, Valeria dragging McCree by the arm. 

“Where’re you taking me, pumpkin?”

“Ha. No  _vaquero_ , we’re going to your place. Where are you staying?”

McCree knew that taking her back to his motel room was a bad idea. It’s not that he had anything of value there, it’s just that he preferred to be the one sneaking out early in the morning. And given his outlaw status and connection to Overwatch, he really needed to make sure that he was being careful. He opened his mouth to object, but just at that moment Valeria turned back to him and smiled, and he completely forgot any reason he had for keeping her away.

“Right this way, miss.” He took her hand, casually interlocking their fingers together, and led her down the empty street toward his motel. He hadn’t expected to drink as much as he had, and was even more surprised that the bartender didn’t charge them for the expensive liquor - Valeria shrugged this off by simply stating “He owes me one.”, whatever that could mean. McCree was feeling tipsy and irresponsible. He knew he should check the phone Winston had given him for Blackwatch updates, but he was too busy laughing and strolling through the hot Mexico street with his new lover to really care.

After a long walk, the two finally reached the dingy motel building and McCree suddenly became uncharacteristically self-conscious about his living quarters. Even in casual clothing Valeria looked far more put-together than he ever had, and he hoped she wouldn’t look down on him for it. As he opened the door he braced himself to hear her scoff, but she didn’t even seem to notice the layers of grime and potential mold on the walls as she followed him inside. 

Valeria locked the door behind her and leaned against it, looking up at McCree. In hindsight McCree would realize that this was the moment he was meant to press her against the door and kiss her, but at the time he was too distracted by how the light slipping in from a nearby window made her eyes almost glow.

“Something on your mind, cowboy?” Her voice was quieter than it had been in the bar, but still held the same confidence.

McCree snapped out of it, feeling a little silly. “Just enjoying your company.”

The woman smiled, stepped away from the door, and walked past him into the apartment. The place was barren. “I’m guessing you’re not in town for long?”

“‘Fraid not. Only just passing through. And yourself?” McCree responded, taking his hat off and resting on a coat rack.

“You could say the same.” She said as her eyes scanned a cheap framed photo of watercolour flowers hanging on the motel wall.

McCree took a seat on the couch and watched as the woman examined the space. The living area was small, the couch plopped in the center of the powder yellow room, facing a tiny TV on a wooden stand. The adjoining kitchen was even smaller and completely empty. Two meters behind the couch were two doors, leading to a bedroom and bathroom. His guest walked around the room letting her hand trail on the furniture and walls she passed. She stopped walking when she got to the window, taking in the sight. As crummy as the place was, the view was stunning. The motel was seated on top of a hill overlooking the city that was now bright with evening lights. McCree took note of how smooth and soft her skin looked as she stood there, and wondered if he’d ever seen anyone look so effortlessly beautiful.

“What are you doing here with me, Valeria?” It took him a second to even realize he’d said that out loud.

She kept looking out the window as she responded, distracted. “Hm?”

McCree continued to watch her, trying to commit the image of her caressed by the warm city light to memory. “Oh come on now. You must be around 22-”

“23.” She corrected.

“And much too attractive to be single-”

“And yet, I am.”

“Can afford the nicest drink in the bar-” He reminded her.

“Didn’t pay for it.” She reminded him.

“What are you doing here _with me_?” He asked, genuinely curious. McCree knew he was a good looking man, but he was getting older, and wasn’t as clever as he used to be. What was she doing with a beaten up and broken old cowboy?

Valeria finally turned back and looked at him. She studied his face, as though she felt he was trying to manipulate her. But McCree was nothing if not honest.

“I know what I like.” She said softly, before turning back to the window.

By that point McCree had definitely sobered up, but he felt more drunk than he had all night as he rose from his spot on the couch and walked up to the woman. He stood close enough to her that she could likely feel his breath against her neck, yet she she made no acknowledgement of his presence. She continued to watch the streetlights, unmoving, as he lifted his hand to her arm and began tracing lines from her wrist to her shoulder. He couldn’t believe how composed she was when - casually, in his tracing - he nudged the strap of her top off of her shoulder, where it found a new home hanging limply against her arm. It was only when he gently pressed his lips to her collarbone that she reacted at all, with a small sharp breath and a flutter of her long black eyelashes.

“ _Vaquero._ ” she whispered, her voice breathy and yearning. A sound that McCree had known would increase his own arousal, though he hadn’t realized how immediately it would take effect. He suddenly felt far too hot in his clothing as he slipped his hands to her waist, softly pulling her body against his.

“Yes, darlin’?” He whispered between peppered kisses on her neck, his voice low.

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me.”

McCree paused for a moment. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged lightly, taking in the sound of her soft moaned response and wanting desperately to hear it again.

“As you wish.” He chuckled against the woman’s skin before swooping her up in his arms and walking her to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'll be getting to present day in the next chapter. Also this is my first fic so if you guys have any advice or comments they would be greatly appreciated <3


	2. A Formal Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overwatch sends McCree to Casino Monaco to gather intel during a not-so-secret Talon meeting. But the newest Talon recruit he's meant to talk to turns out to be a familiar face.

**PRESENT**

McCree didn’t expect to ever be here again, working for Overwatch. He’d declined the recall request many times before Angela called him personally. She’d asked one favour of him: a single job gathering intel for Overwatch with herself and Lena. McCree had wanted to turn that down too, but Angela had helped him out so many times in the past that he had trouble saying no to her.

The role was simple. They needed someone to ‘meet’ Talon’s newest hacker, and as McCree was the only one not officially registered as a current member of Overwatch, he was likely the only face the hacker wouldn’t recognize. So McCree agreed to join them, temporarily, as a hired hand. They paid him well enough, and he didn’t want to admit it but money was tight and work was scarce for an outlaw. In preparation for the mission they cleaned up his scruff, slicked his hair back, and traded his cowboy getup for a sleek black suit. They also offered him speech therapy to hide his Southern accent, but there was only so much McCree was willing to get rid of. Jack and Winston told him the plan, set up a tiny communication device behind his ear, and sent him off.

The place wasn’t as crowded as he was expecting, but it was enough. McCree had to keep his head down, knowing that the Spider and Doomfist were going to show up any second. But they weren’t his mission. Lena and Angela were going to watch over the Talon duo, while McCree was sent to ‘bump into’ the Talon hacker, who they told him would be scouting the place from the second floor. He didn’t know much about her. They gave McCree her description and a couple of basic details (very few, and most unhelpful) before sending him to find her. It was a rushed job, but he was used to that.

He spotted her from across the room, standing by the bar in a floor length pink gown. She spoke out loud to no one in particular, and McCree made a mental note that she was likely wired. McCree waited a moment - watching her move to speak to the bartender - before he turned on his classic charm and sauntered over to her.

The woman was facing away from him, scanning the drinks lining the wall behind the bar. McCree rested a hand on the bartop next to her as he spoke. “I’m not usually a casino type of man, but my friends convinced me I’d find something here I liked. I’m thinkin’ they were right.” He flashed her a smile, but she wasn’t looking.

“You sure took your time.” She replied, dryly.

McCree was a little taken aback by her response, but he didn’t show it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me make it up to ya.”

The bartender brought two drinks over and placed one in front of each of them. “Thank you kindly.” McCree nodded to the man. He picked up the drink, correctly assuming that she had ordered it for him, and took a sip.

The next moment was almost comical - the perfect trifecta of _holy shit_ realization that had McCree frozen on the spot. All at once, three things happened: 1) McCree recognized the familiar drink, its taste smoky and expensive. 2) The woman looked at him with her unforgettable purple eyes, and in his mind he could see them glowing in the light of that soft Castillo night. 3) Her choice of words shot him back several years as she replied “And just how are you planning to do that,  _vaquero_?”

“... _Vaquero_.”  Was all he could blurt out as he stood there, staring. Immediately he heard a voice pipe up in his ear. It was Lena.

“ _Vaquero_? What does that mean?” She chirped. McCree cursed himself internally for repeating the word out loud, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t have to explain this later. But Lena’s reaction reminded him of something important - he was wired, and everything he said would be heard by the group. He wasn’t sure he wanted them to know about his past relationship with the newest Talon recruit; it would raise too many other questions that he didn’t feel comfortable answering. He had to watch his words for now.

McCree snapped back to reality and turned to the woman. She was smirking at him, waiting for him to respond. He regained his composure. He wanted to know what she was thinking, but decided that whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. She was a terrorist after all, though McCree tried not to think too hard about that.

McCree ignored her previous question and instead asked, “So what’s a nice girl like you doing here, anyway?”

She took a sip of her drink before placing it on the bartop and watching the liquid ripple. “Probably the same thing you are, no?”

“I’d say no.” He responded with a chuckle.

The woman picked up her drink and began to walk away from him.

“You here alone then? Need some company?” She turned and McCree was finally able to see the entirety of the woman from his past. Her hair was purple now, or at least what was left of it. Half of it was brown at the roots, fading into purple, fading into white, and the other half was shaved and harbouring hardware. Long ago McCree would have thought the tech implants were crazy, but now he had a completely robotic arm of of his own, so who was he to judge? As outlandish as it was, he had to admit the new hair suited her features well. She looked a bit older from last time - though not by much - but had the same familiar smirk permanently plastered on her face. She was dressed in a floor length pink gown, with a deep v-neckline outlined in purple that was daring him to look down at her exposed cleavage. He had also noticed a large opening at the front of her dress that let him catch a glimpse of her toned legs as she walked. McCree was trying not to think about how good she looked, and trying even harder not to wonder whether she thought he looked good as well. He wasn’t as confident without his hat, and he was concerned it would show. It’s sad how many times McCree had to remind himself that she was a _literal terrorist_ to keep those thoughts at bay.

“You can join me if you like, I don’t really care.” She shrugged, before continuing further into the casino. McCree was a bit hurt by her uninterested response, but he reminded himself of the job he was meant to do and followed her.

She took a seat at a small table next to an indoor balcony overlooking the ground floor of the casino. McCree took a peak over the edge and realized that he could see the entirety of the place from here. It was even a better scouting point than where Lena and Angela were positioned, down below. The woman didn’t seen to be paying any attention to the view however, much to McCree’s surprise. She was busy examining her nails whilst casually taking sips of her drink. McCree took the seat across from her at the tiny table for two.

“I didn’t catch your name, darlin’.”

She put her hand down and raised an eyebrow at McCree. “What, they didn’t tell you?”

They had told him. ‘Sombra’ they said. It took Sojourn forever to figure that out. She had followed hunch after hunch, spending countless weeks tracking this woman down. It had been almost impossible, but they found her.

“It’s Sombra, but good luck proving it.” She smirked. McCree decided he wouldn’t tell Sojourn that all she had to do to learn the woman’s name was ask.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded to her.

Sombra glanced over the balcony and McCree instinctively followed her gaze, immediately cursing himself for how obvious his scouting attempts were; subtlety was not his strong suit. He turned back to her after not seeing anything of value down below. Sombra examined his features, deciding her next move. She rolled her eyes before standing up and walking over to his side of the table.

She took a seat sideways on his lap, facing the balcony. McCree, caught by surprise, naturally put his drink down and brought his arms to her back and thighs, holding her in place. Sombra wrapped one of her arms around his neck, letting that hand play with the hair by his ear, while the other held her drink while resting against his chest.

“Look here, _guapo_.” She raised a pointed finger on her drink hand toward a Craps table near one end of the casino. She lowered her voice to a whisper as she continued, “That’s Doomfist there in the white suit, with Widowmaker next to him. You know them, _si_ ?" McCree nodded. He wondered for a second if the others could hear Sombra in his earpiece, but the lack of response made it clear they didn’t.

“They’re here speaking to that guy, Maximilien.” Her finger moved to point to a sharply dressed omnic at the same table. “Some fancy-shmancy accountant gone bad. No idea what about. They explained it to me, but honestly I wasn’t listening.” She said, finishing her drink and putting it on the table.

McCree turned to look back at Sombra, whose face was inches from his. He hadn’t realized that he’d been playing with the fabric of her dress until she took his hand off of her legs and interlocked their fingers together. She turned to look at him, other hand still running her fingers in his hair, and leaned in close as she spoke.

“That’s what you’re here for, right?”

McCree didn’t respond to that. He didn’t really know what he was there for, but he supposed the information she gave him would be useful somehow. Still, he was more focused on her fingers in his hair, the feel of her weight on his lap, and how soft her lips looked and how tempted he was to kiss them. Just as he was about to lean in, Sombra stood up, grabbed her empty glass and walked back to her side of the table, leaving McCree instantly missing the closeness.

Then McCree noticed something. He hadn’t even realized that there had been a buzzing in his ear until it was gone. As if someone had left a heater on all day and it suddenly turned off - a sudden, strange silence. McCree’s hand rose to touch his ear, but before he could even do so Sombra held up his earpiece in her hand.

“Looking for this?” She asked while clicking the power button on the tiny device before tossing it onto the table between them. “Bad reception, such a shame.”

McCree took a second to realize what she’d done. “Come on now, I-”

She cut him off, “It’s nice to see you again, Jesse McCree.”

McCree sighed. He was probably going to get in trouble with Jack for this later, but it was the only way to talk to her without Overwatch knowing of their history.

“Nice to see you again too, Valeria.” He replied, amazed at himself for even remembering the name. Then again, that was the last time McCree allowed himself the freedom of sharing a bed with someone else, and he had to admit she was quite hard to forget.

Sombra looked confused, but then a moment of recognition struck her and she laughed. It was a lovely sound. “Oh, right. Fake name, sorry.”

McCree laughed as well, he should’ve guessed that. “It’s Sombra then?”

“That’s what they call me.” She replied without hesitation.

“The folks at Overwatch said that was fake too.” He gave her a questioning glance.

She tapped her nails on her empty glass, looking casually over the balcony. McCree picked up his own and took a sip.

“Huh, you guys are not as dumb as you look. _S_ _i, es falsa_. But it’s the only one you’re getting, McCree.”

A question sprung into McCree’s head that he hadn’t thought of before. “Wait a minute. How do you know my name?”

She smiled mischievously before lifting her hand to her head and tapping a spot on her tech above her own ear. “Heads up, boss. Company headed your way.” She tapped the spot again, seemingly turning the device back off.

McCree looked over the balcony to see a group of men entering the casino, as well as Doomfist looking back at them. When he turned back Sombra was already getting up. McCree downed his drink and picked up his earpiece, keeping it in his hand as he followed her.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He spoke to her back as she walked away.

“You think I wouldn’t know who you are?” She responded to the air in front of her.

“Did you know back then?” McCree was getting irritated now, and sped up to catch up with her. But just at that moment she stopped and turned around, and he almost bumped into her.

Sombra raised her hand to fiddle with the collar of McCree’s suit jacket as she spoke. “Ex-Deadlock member and wanted criminal Jesse McCree with a bounty of $60 million over his head. I knew that.” She bit her lip for a moment before continuing. “Imagine my delight when I looked you up later and found out you were Blackwatch too.”

“Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“Psh, boring. I think my alternative was far more… rewarding.” She said with a wink.

Behind him McCree began to hear a ton of commotion. A fight had clearly broken out on the floor below them. He turned to see a few patrons run up to the balcony they had been seated at, looking over the ledge.

“Doomfist and Widow are at it again. I’m outta here.” Sombra sighed as she began walking away again.

McCree considered going back to the balcony, but instead decided to stay after Sombra. “Who are those men?”

“Run back to Overwatch, McCree. Talon’s done here.”

“Where are you going?” He asked. She didn’t respond.

McCree walked up to her and grabbed her arm. “Sombra.” He called her name harshly. She turned back to him with a look of consideration on her face. She calmly took the earpiece out of his hand and put in back in its place on his ear, without turning it on just yet. She held his face in her other hand, rubbing his scruff with her thumb as she simply stated “See you in Venice.”

Sombra then pressed a button on the earpiece and pulled her hands away. Immediately McCree could hear Lena speaking a mile a minute in his ear, with Angela occasionally chiming in as well. They were looking for McCree, and describing the events going on downstairs. McCree looked back at the balcony. Behind him he heard Sombra speak.

“ _Adios, vaquero.”_

When he turned around again, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered putting in translations for the Spanish, but I assumed you guys would be able to figure it out easily enough. Let me know if you would prefer translations though! Also I don't actually speak Spanish so please correct me if any of it is inaccurate! Thanks <3


	3. Venice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree heads to Venice to find Sombra, but do things ever go as planned?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pretty long chapter for you guys, I hope you don't mind! Also, sorry if there are any typos or grammatical errors, I got really tired of editing this and just wanted to put it out. I might go over it again and fix it up if I see any mistakes later.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and please leave a comment if you have a second! It really makes my day <3

The Casino Monaco mission had been successful. Overwatch had been satisfied with the intel McCree had given them, limited as it was. Apparently they’d heard the name Maximilien before, and now they had the go ahead to start tracking him. Angela pulled him aside after the meeting to tell him that Jack had been impressed by his ability to gather intel from the hacker, and McCree nodded politely, hoping she wouldn’t ask him how he’d done it. No one asked. They just commended him, paid him handsomely, and sent him on his way. McCree suspected that they would call upon him again some time in the future, but for now he was free to do as he pleased.

“See you in Venice.” was all she had said, the one thing he had chosen not to report to Overwatch. It had only taken him a couple of days before he hopped on the plane to Italy, having initially decided not to go at all. Why should he? She hadn’t given him any actual explanation as to what was happening in Venice, or when, or where. But McCree had grown antsy after the Casino Monaco mission, and craved some action. And he didn’t want to admit how interested he was in her. It had been a long time since someone was able to peak his interest the way that she had, and McCree didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see her again - who knows when the next one would be? So he packed a small bag and headed off to Venice.

It had been a while since McCree last set foot in the city, previous memories not being exactly pleasant. He’d taken some time to explore the streets, biding time so he could ignore the fact that he had no idea what to do now. It was sort of like a vacation: he strolled aimlessly, enjoying the sights and sounds of a city that was far more inviting than he’d remembered. There had actually been a few moments where McCree enjoyed the time off so much that he forgot about his history with the city. But those moments were short lived, and then the painful memories would resurface, and his mood would sour once again.

A week after his arrival in Venice, McCree was sitting in his homely hotel room, trying to decide when it would be time to call it quits on his rendezvous with the mysterious hacker. She hadn’t given him any information, and it’s possible that he’d already missed whatever event she was here for. He decided that he would book a flight home the next morning.

McCree was taking a shower when his phone beeped. It was the phone Winston had given him so many years before, and recently tweaked for the Casino Monaco mission. McCree still wasn’t a part of Overwatch, but he kept the phone with him just in case. He didn’t expect to need it though, so he didn’t notice the beeping at first. It was as he turned the water off that he really heard it, immediately rushing out of the bathroom to check the message. To his surprise it wasn’t a message from Overwatch, but rather from an unknown number. The first message simply contained an address to a place within the city. The second read: “Did you get my present?”. McCree was about to call Winston to ask about what was going on, but at that exact moment, a third message appeared that read: “Coming, cowboy?”

There was a knock at the door. McCree wrapped himself in a towel and opened it to see a man in a hotel uniform, presenting him with a large black box. Suspicious, he made the bellboy open the box, letting out a sigh of relief when he realized the contents weren’t dangerous. He thanked the man and took the box to examine it further. He set the box down on a coffee table and opened it up properly. Inside, he found a couple of random clothing accessories that he couldn’t understand the purpose of, all black in colour. The first was a hat that had the same material and weight of his own cowboy hat, but was shaped more like that of Robin Hood. He also found a matching masquerade mask, that covered the top half of his face in a veil of black feathers. Beneath those was a cloak that when worn covered McCree’s entire outfit in a cone of darkness from his shoulders reaching to the floor. At the bottom of the box he found a paper ticket for a masquerade ball in the area. McCree checked the address on the ticket alongside the one he’d received via text and sure enough, they matched. He looked at himself in the mirror, surprised by how easily the three pieces concealed his identity. He studied the ticket, taking in the realization that he was going to be seeing his hacker again.

This was a stupid decision and he knew it. It could very easily be an ambush and McCree could find himself with ten Talon rifles in his face before he even steps into the place. But a part of his long neglected romantic heart hoped that this was a date, that Sombra would be standing by the entrance with a smirk on her face and a drink in her hand, waiting for him. He mentally slapped himself for the thought, trying to convince himself that his relationship with her was more of a joke than anything, and that he would flat out refuse anything more. McCree also reminded himself that she was working for Talon, and was more dangerous than he was giving her credit for.

He slipped his Peacekeeper into its holster and left for the ball.

 

* * *

 

McCree wondered if all masquerade balls were like this: crowded, with drinks flowing in every direction and couples flirting amorously without restraint. But mostly crowded. There were hundreds of people in the mansion hall, and McCree began to think his efforts in coming here were futile. Everyone was wearing some sort of disguise, how would he even manage to find her? He was tempted to walk out as quickly as he’d come in, but then he remembered that she had invited him personally, and had texted his phone directly, and the slight warmth in his stomach at the thought convinced him to stay. He grabbed a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s platter and downed it in one gulp. He was tempted to get another, but even he knew this wasn’t the time for it.

After waiting around and watching the crowd for a bit in an unsuccessful search for his ‘date’, McCree decided to explore the grounds a bit further. Most of the space was monitored by armed security, forcing the cowboy to feign looking for the bathroom several times to avoid suspicion. He eventually found a blocked-off back staircase that was eerily lacking guards, and decided to chance it. He walked up the narrow stairs, hand steady on his weapon, and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight at the top. The floor was littered with bodies. Two armed security men dressed similarly to those downstairs lay dead directly in front of him, with a couple more men in suits lining the floor of the long hallway, facing the same fate. McCree pulled his Peacekeeper out and walked forward cautiously.

The hallway was quiet, save for the soft sound of a whirring fan emanating from the room near the end. McCree stepped over the bodies and quietly followed the noise. The door was slightly ajar and he could see a dull green light seeping through the crack. He entered the room, weapon first, and immediately noticed two more dead men lying on the floor next to their desk chairs. In one of the chairs sat a jester - well, someone in a jester costume - with their feet up on the control board, facing away from him. He aimed his gun directly at the jester’s head, about to word a warning, before he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Smile! You’re on camera.” The jester joked, pointing a long nail at a monitor on the table in front of them. McCree followed their finger to the screen and saw a pixelated version of himself, almost unrecognizable in his disguise.

The jester then swiveled around in the chair, and McCree’s subconsciously lowered gun snapped back their head. “Wow.” She eyed him, completely ignoring the gun pointed in her direction. “I’m glad everything fit.”

All it took was one look into her purple eyes for McCree to recognize her.

“Well shit.” Was all he could say as he lowered his weapon.

Sombra stood up, allowing McCree to see her costume fully. The black and white jester outfit fit in with the exuberant attire downstairs, but in this tiny, mundane room it looked ridiculous. Though he imagined he looked just as so.

She definitely knew what he was thinking as she replied, “What? Don’t like the look?”

“It’s certainly somethin’.”

She leaned against the control board as she took off her jester’s hat and McCree noted that the bells adorning it didn’t actually jingle as he had expected them to - a small relief stealth-wise. He watched as she grabbed a wipe from her bag and began removing her facepaint, and wondered briefly if she had kept the outfit on just to show it off to him, but he quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

“You got a thing for clowns as well as cowboys, pumpkin?”

“It was Doomfist’s idea, I thought I’d let him have his fun.”

“Ha. He’s got a sense of humour.” He hoped his jab would cover how pretty he thought she looked after taking her makeup off, her skin still wet and glistening from the wipe. He almost felt disappointed seeing her pull out a compact and start reapplying her lipstick.

“So what’s going on here exactly?” He asked after a moment of standing awkwardly at the door.

“Hmm?” She replied, distracted as she inspected her artistry.

McCree took a seat on the chair across from her, watching how her lips parted as she combed through her lashes with mascara. “Why’d you invite me here?”

“Mostly boredom.”

“Boredom?” McCree asked casually as if that hadn’t stung.

“Is that not allowed?” She finished with her makeup, closing the compact and looking at McCree directly.

“You made me hop on a plane and come all the way here because you were bored?”

She turned back to look at the screens. McCree kept his ears perked for movement in the hallway, but kept his eyes on her as she responded. “I didn’t make you do anything, _vaquero_. I just told you I’d see you here. Why did you come?”

That was a good question. McCree knew why he came: he was tired of Overwatch and tired of his lonely life in Texas, and Sombra brought his heart rate up whenever he thought about her. He was willing to chase that feeling and subsequently her, but he was definitely not going to admit it.

“Boredom.” Was the truly unsatisfying response he gave her. A complete lie, but saying it gave McCree a spark of hope that maybe she’d been lying as well.

She clicked her tongue and looked back at the computer screens. She examined their contents for a bit before getting up and stuffing her hat into her backpack, trading it for her machine pistol. It surprised McCree to see her holding such a weapon, but then he reminded himself of the men lying dead in the hallway and realized that he needed to stop underestimating the hacker.

“Coming?” She asked, looking back at him as she picked up her bag and headed for the door. McCree obediently followed suit.

The two walked further down the hallway to a door leading to an exterior portion of the castle-like mansion. The passageway they were on overlooked the ocean, and McCree was thankful for the warm cloak as the wind blew in from the water. If Sombra was cold, she didn’t show it, but that didn’t stop McCree from wondering if he should offer the cloak to her instead. She was preoccupied looking at something on a purple projected screen that floated in front of her. The purple light from the screen teamed up with the wavy streaks of moonlight reflecting off the waves to bask Sombra in an ethereal light, almost giving the impression that she were underwater. McCree observed how the grey and purple lights then battled to see who would occupy the space in her eyes. The purple won, and McCree was thankful for it. Sombra interrupted his thoughts with actual information regarding the mission.

“So those guys that attacked Doomfist and Widowmaker back at Monaco, they were sent by a man named Vialli. This is his place.”

“And who is he to Talon again?”

“He runs Talon.”

“Oh.” That didn’t make sense. McCree furrowed his brow. “And what are y’all doing he-”

“Trying to kill him.”

“But he is Talon.”

“ _Si_.”

“So all of those men back there you killed were Talon?”

“They were. There, now you don’t have to feel bad about my killing them.”

“But you’re also in Talon.”

“ _Si_.” She only answered a millisecond later than expected, but McCree caught the hesitation anyway.

“Man, you guys sure are a rotten bunch.” She didn’t respond to that.

As the pair walked to the end of the outdoor passageway, McCree smelled the distinct scent of gunpowder not far off. Sombra turned the corner first, her focus on the purple screen hovering in front of her, and immediately a gun went off in her direction. It was a narrow miss, the bullet slicing sideways through the hologram and into the wall to her left. McCree sprang in front of her, Peacekeeper held out before him, and instinctually shot in the direction of the bullet, killing the man that fired it. He took out two more before he heard Sombra’s machine pistol whirring behind him, taking another woman down. The section of the passageway they were now in looked over a courtyard garden, and as a man jumped off their floor onto the lush grass below, Sombra jumped in after him, taking him out with a single round of her weapon. She looked back up at McCree, and for a second he could’ve sworn he saw concern on her face, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

“All good, cowb-” Sombra began to ask, when a bullet flew through the air and sliced across her side, forcing her to drop her weapon in shock. Three more men appeared from various entrances to the garden, their guns all aimed at her. From his position above them, McCree had a clear view of the small enclosure, and took a deep breath as he mentally marked the positions of each of the men. His eyebrows narrowed in concentration as his trigger finger steadied, and in an instant McCree fired his trusty Peacekeeper in quick succession, watching as one, two, all three men died before they even hit the ground. He hopped off the passageway ledge onto the garden floor, and rushed over to Sombra.

Sombra had picked up her weapon and was frantically scanning the garden for further threats, but the air had stilled. She sighed, both in frustration and pain.

“Vialli had more men than we thought. Guess we saved Doom some work.”

McCree was more focused on her bleeding wound. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“Huh? No, I’ll be fine.”

“Sombra.”

“I said I’ll be fine. You can go home now. Sorry for the guests.” She kicked the head of one of the dead men in irritation.

“You invited me all the way to Venice and now you’re asking me to leave? What sort of date is that?”

“A bad one. Go home.”

Sombra began walking away from McCree, clutching her ribs, but he followed close behind. They entered the castle halls and walked in silence, McCree keeping his guard up and thankful that Sombra hadn’t pushed him to leave. This portion of the building was filled with more dead bodies, though McCree knew they couldn’t possibly be Sombra’s doing. As they passed by a large castle window, Sombra let out a whispered _oh shit_ and ducked down, pulling McCree down with her. She tried to hide her wince at the abrupt movement, but McCree caught it all the same. He followed her gaze as she sneakily peered over the ledge of the window. Through the glass he could see two figures in similarly flashy cloaks and extravagant hats crossing the stone castle bridge to a building on the other side.

“Doomfist.”

“Ah. And I’m just supposed to turn the other way? Pretend I forgot my weapon at home?”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky. You should’ve seen what he did to his jail cell. And you may be tough McCree, but not as tough as _cemento_.”

“Fair enough.” McCree noticed Sombra’s black and white costume staining red with her blood. He tore a piece of his cloak off and shuffled toward her.

“Hey, I spent good money on that.”

“And if it helps fight infection it’ll be money well spent.”

He gently wrapped the fabric around her waist, careful not to apply any more pressure than necessary. It wasn’t going to do much, but it would help with the bleeding, and hopefully keep the germs at bay.

“We really gotta get you patched up.”

“Don’t worry so much. I have stuff back at my room. _T_ _odo bien._ ”

McCree stood up and held out a hand out to her. When she didn’t immediately take it, he mistook her hesitation as a request for something different. He bent down and picked her up.

“Hey- _Vaquero_ -”  

“Does this hurt?” He held her as gently as he could, while still managing to keep his revolver in his right hand as it rested behind her back. He prayed he wouldn’t actually have to use it.

“I can walk just fine.”

“Stop your complainin’ and tell me how to get out of here.”

For once Sombra did as she was told.

 

* * *

 

Getting back to her hotel was easier than expected. McCree had burrito-wrapped Sombra in his torn cloak so their cab driver remained oblivious to the blood soaking underneath it. His carrying her didn’t seem to raise suspicion either; they probably just looked like any other horned-up, slightly tipsy couple from the ball. Keeping that appearance was important, or so he told himself as he held her against his chest the whole drive back, trying to memorize the pattern of her breathing. Only after tipping the driver and exiting the vehicle did he realize that they were actually at _his_ hotel. Before he could say anything, Sombra tugged at his collar and pointed toward a card scanner next to a door to the building. They were at a back entrance in the dark and desolate parking lot, so the shift into fluorescent lighting as she tapped a card against the scanner and they walked in, strained McCree’s eyes. She asked him once again to put her down, and once they were in the elevator he finally obliged. He watched as she clicked the button for his floor, and said nothing.

Once they reached floor 6, McCree fully expected Sombra to walk straight to his room, but instead she walked into the one directly opposite it.

“Wait, this is your room?”

She got out her key card again and opened the door, pulling a “Do Not Disturb” sign off the handle as she did so. Walking inside, his question was immediately answered. Three shiny laptops sat closed on a desk, her clothes were shoved messily into an open suitcase by the double bed, and a few of those little purple devices she always had strapped to her hip were sitting on the bed, clearly having been tinkered with. McCree ignored a nagging feeling in regard to the several empty cans of energy drinks filling up the recycling bin, deciding that she needed her vice as much as he needed smoking.

“This is right across from my room.” He stated the obvious. “Did you follow me here?”

“I’ve been here for a week,  _vaquero_.” She replied over her shoulder as she pulled a medical kit out of her suitcase and brought it to the small coffee table in the center of the room, tossing her gun onto the desk on her way back.

“Huh. Strange coincidence.”

“I did however ensure that when you came here only one room popped up on the front desk computer as ‘available’.”

McCree laughed. “That makes more sense. My stalker.”

She smirked up at him. “You’re the one who hopped on a plane just to see me.”

“You’re right, I did.”

That hung in the air for a moment as Sombra pulled out the necessary supplies from the med kit: gauze, plaster, and some heavy disinfectant. She removed his cloak from her shoulders and McCree winced at how much blood had dried against her clothing. She motioned for him to help with a zipper at the back of her costume, he did so, and she slipped it off. McCree normally would have revelled in the sight of his beautiful date dressed only in thin lace underwear, but his concern outweighed his attraction. The wound was not as deep as the blood had made it seem, but it was a wound nonetheless. He guided her to sit with him on the couch, and carefully prepared the materials to make a bandage.

“This may sting, darlin’.” He said softly as he poured some disinfectant onto her skin. Sombra clenched her fists in pain but sat still while a single tear rolled from her eye, betraying her apathetic nature. The rest of the process went by without a hitch. The wound was cleaned and patched up and hopefully wouldn’t leave too bad of a scar. McCree put the materials back into the med kit, unsure of what to do now.

“Thank you, McCree.”

“You can call me Jesse, ya know.”

“Alright.” Was all she responded to that.

They sat in silence for a minute before McCree looked back at her, reminded suddenly of her lack of clothing, and felt a blush spread across his cheeks. His eyes ignored his mind’s protest as they did a quick scan of her body before shooting back up to meet her eyes. She smirked and crawled closer on the couch toward him. Her hand reached up and played with his earlobe as she spoke.

“This is awfully familiar, isn’t it?”

He tried to hide the lust in his voice as choked out a simple “Mhm.” McCree snaked one arm around her back and helped slowly lower her along the length of the couch, careful not to touch her bandaged side. He leaned his body above her, his arms propping himself on either side of her own, as he slowly dragged his nose up along her neck.

Just as he was about to kiss her, McCree eyes caught a glimpse of the machine pistol on the desk behind her and he was reminded abruptly - and frankly, annoyingly - of their grim reality. She was the enemy, and she worked for an organization that defied everything he believed in, even as a wanted outlaw. With a frustrated _fuck_ McCree swiftly lifted himself completely off of her and stood up. She shot him a confused look, with a hint of annoyance that matched his own.

“You’re a terrorist.”

“Sorry, what?” She sat herself back up on the couch, the romantic moment gone.

“I can’t do this, you’re the bad guy.”

“Ha. Matter of perspective.”

“Talon is trying to start a _war_. As if we need another. I know what that does to people.”

“Don’t lecture me about the war.” Her voice had a restrained bite to it.

“Well you’re helping them. So you’re responsible too.” He stood on the opposite side of the room, creating a chasm between them.

“I’m not helping them start a war. I’m-”

“You support Talon.” He looked her dead in the eyes, expecting her to be as blasé as always, He was slightly taken aback by the anger in her eyes.

“I don’t give a shit about Talon.” She spit out each word harshly, their taste bitter in her mouth.

McCree decided he wasn’t going to take the bait. “You’re just as bad as they are.”

“Watch it.” The restraint was gone now.

“I don’t need anything to do with a terrorist.”

“You don’t know me, _vaquero_.” Her voice was venom.

“I think I know enough.”

They each other’s gaze for a moment, McCree upset at himself for letting things get this far. The air was suffocatingly thick. Sombra was the first to break eye contact as she walked over to the desk and sat down, opening up a laptop.

“I have work to do. See yourself out.”

McCree was about to comment that she needed to be sleeping to heal her wound, but he held it back. Instead, he took one last look at the hacker, ignoring the pang of guilt in the back of his mind, and left the room. The two step walk back to his room felt a bit pathetic, and he tossed himself into the shower to try and forget the night’s emotionally draining events.

McCree then tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. After an hour of tossing and turning he got up and opened his phone, looking at the text from the ‘unknown number’ that was definitely Sombra, and wondered briefly why she would invite someone to a Talon mission, especially someone connected to Overwatch. He thought back to Casino Monaco, asking himself why she had given him so much information then. And then her words “ _I don’t give a shit about Talon._ ” Spoken which such hostility that McCree couldn’t quite decipher the source of.

A purple light briefly flashed on his phone screen and McCree looked down to see that all of Sombra’s messages were suddenly gone. He scrambled to find them, opening every app and scanning every existing text, but the search was fruitless. He tossed the phone across the room, missing his bag entirely, but not caring enough to go pick it up.

McCree glanced at the hotel alarm clock. It was 6:15 A.M. He hadn’t realized how late they’d been out and how much time he’d spent in her room until now. She really needed to be sleeping. Before he could stop himself, he got out of bed and set out to tell her just that.

McCree whipped open his door and nearly walked into the massive toiletry cart stopped right outside his room. The maid standing next to it began apologizing profusely, but McCree just brushed her off and peered into the room across from is, the door left open for the maid to enter. It was completely bare, as if no one had ever been there. Even the recycling had been emptied - all signs of her were gone. McCree stared at the spot on the couch where his hacker had been sitting before the maid interrupted his daydream to ask him if he needed something. He thanked her for her hospitality and went back into his own room.

He caught a flight home the next day.  


	4. The Cabaret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra is nothing if not unpredictable. And McCree certainly didn't predict this.

It had been almost a month since McCree’s excursion in Venice. He’d since returned home to Texas, to his tiny ranch squat in the middle of nowhere. He had a sizeable plot of [empty] farmland and his deck overlooked a [small and murky] lake, so the place really wasn’t all that bad. It was secluded - which in the past had helped with concealing his location and normally suited him just fine, but these days he longed for some company to form as a distraction. He tried his best not to think about the hacker, and spent his days mostly shooting target plates from his porch or drinking by himself until he fell asleep.

He didn’t want to admit how much he was becoming reliant on a glass to help him get through the day. He knew in the long term it would probably create more problems, but for now it was the only thing that helped him forget her velvet skin, electric eyes, and that particular shade of purple she loved so much - all of which would otherwise consume his mind. He’d sit back and let the strong taste of cheap whiskey bathe his tongue, the burning sensation drowning out any other thoughts. But a minute later he would remember how she’d slightly roll the ‘r’ in ‘ _vaquero’_ when she was trying to seduce him, and he’d just down the drink and pour himself another.

McCree had no reason to be upset, he knew that. He had ended it, though he had trouble defining what ‘it’ was. He was confident he’d made the right decision. He had no business hanging around a member of Talon, regardless of whether or not that particular Talon member made his heart flutter every time she bat her eyelashes in his direction.

Even if McCree wanted to get back in touch with Sombra, he didn’t exactly have any means of doing so. He had secretly hoped that she would send him another sneaky text on his Overwatch phone, but after a few weeks of waiting his faith in that idea all but withered away. It was probably for the best. No, it _was_ for the best.

It was nearing the end of October, McCree realized, as he sat on his porch and watched the moonlight bounce off the soft ripples in the lake. It was an incredibly hot night in Texas, despite the nighttime air and autumn presence. If he closed his eyes he felt as though he were in Mexico… so he kept his eyes open. The dryness stung, but it was worth it to refrain from remembering that not-so-chance encounter in Castillo, so many years ago. McCree downed his drink and poured another.

 

* * *

 

The cowboy spent a couple more days sulking around before he received a a very welcome call from his old friend Angela Ziegler. She was doing a small medical workshop at Overwatch’s small American sector, and invited him down to chat over a cup of tea. Upon hanging up, the cowboy immediately chugged a bottle of water to sober himself up a bit (it was 3pm on a Tuesday and he really didn’t Angela questioning his health anymore than she already did) and called a hovercar to drive him there.

Mercy had set up some tea for the two of them in her spacious Overwatch guest suite. She was the darling of Overwatch, and it showed. The suite was at least half the size of his entire ranch, and twice as expensive. Mercy lead him to a set of sofas where a spread of tea and biscuits lay waiting for them atop a sleek grey coffee table. Angela poured him a cup from a beautiful china pot into an equality delicate teacup. It smelled far too fruity for McCree’s liking, but he thanked her and took it all the same.

“Nice place.” McCree commented, taking a seat on the leather couch opposite Mercy.  

“Isn’t it? I offered to stay in a hotel, but they insisted.”

“You’re always welcome to stay at my ranch.” He flashed her a genuine smile. It felt like forever since the last mission, and even longer since Blackwatch. It was hard to believe he’d known her for so long. He regretted not invited her over sooner.

“Thank you. I will surely visit when I have the chance. I’m sure it’s a lovely place.”

“Ha, I wouldn’t count on that, but you’re welcome all the same.” He chuckled.

They sat quietly for a moment before McCree spoke up again.

“I was wonderin’, Angela, if y’all might have a few more projects I could hop on. Temporarily.” McCree had meant to bring this up much later in their conversation, but he’d been wanting to ask it since he’d said hello to her in the lobby and couldn’t hold the question in any longer. He really needed a distraction, and Overwatch paid well.

“I thought you weren’t coming back?” She replied, her head cocked slightly to the side.

“What can I say? I’ve missed the gang.” He gave her a small shrug and took a sip of his tea. It tasted like potpourri, but McCree forced himself to swallow it anyway.

If Mercy noticed, she didn’t show it. “Well, I’m sure we can find something for you to do. I know Winston’s been going on about needing some field tests done on his latest invention.”

That struck McCree as odd. “Huh. Woulda thought he’d call me about it, considering he gave me a phone and all.”

“Don’t mind him. He’s been pretty busy lately. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s been on edge since we started working with this Talon hacker.”

McCree choked on his tea. Mercy stood to help him but he held a hand up to stop her.

“Sorry, come again?” He coughed.

Mercy looked concerned, but kept going anyway. “You’ve met her before. We had you speak to her during the Casino Monaco mission. With the purple hair and-”

“Yeah, I remember. What do you mean you’re working with her?” McCree finally regained his composure.

“Exactly that. Jack made some sort of deal with her. She’s helping us track down Maximilien.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Some meeting, Jack said.”

“With who?” He huffed.

“I’m not certain. Why?” Mercy sipped her tea casually, unaware of how hard McCree was gripping his own cup.

“You shouldn’t trust her.”

“Rest assured we’re taking what she says with a grain of salt, but she’s already helped us take down a few of Vialli’s men.”

“No, you _really_ shouldn’t trust her. She’s trickier than you think.” McCree rubbed his beard with his palm, trying to ignore the headache he knew was brewing in his temples.

“I wasn’t exactly on board with the idea… and neither was Jack, at first.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know. He spent almost two hours interrogating her. No one knows what she said, but it must have been significant for him to agree to work together.”

“Hmph...so I can’t convince you to leave her be?”

“You know that’s not my call, Jesse.”

McCree let out a deep sigh. He didn’t trust that Overwatch would be able to handle Sombra on their own, but here was nothing he could say that wouldn’t indict himself.

“When’s this meeting happening?” He asked.

Mercy inspected a ladyfinger on the table as she spoke. “Tomorrow evening at the Cabaret Luna in Paris. Overwatch is in charge of security for an event there and she’ll be closely supervised. Don’t worry, Jack and Winston spent a lot of time figuring out the safest way to approach this.”

“Who’s supervising her? Jack?”

“No, Genji.”

“Hmph.”

With that, the two old friends finished their tea in silence, both worn out from a long day. After a few minutes of munching on small finger sandwiches, McCree placed his cup on the table between them and got up.

“I’m going to tail them.” He said to no one in particular, dusting the biscuit crumbs off his pants.

Mercy shook her head slightly. “Hm, I guess I could speak to Jack about-”

“No.” He stopped her. “No official Overwatch thing. She’ll just see it on the records. I’ll go on my own.”

“You know I can’t approve that.” Mercy began cleaning up the dishes and walking them to the sink. McCree moved to help her but she just waved him away.

“Jack will say no, you know he will. And y’all don’t know what you’re dealing with with her.”

“Genji can handle it.”

Upon hearing the cyborg’s name again, McCree changed his angle. “Angela, it’s Genji I’m worried about.”

Mercy was about to begin washing the dishes, but instead she put the cups down and turned around slowly, giving McCree her full attention.

“Let me tail them.” He pleaded.

Mercy let out an exasperated sigh and McCree felt a bit guilty for the undue stress he was putting on her.

“I don’t like this.” She responded, defeated. “I don’t know if they’ll even let you in, considering you’re not Overwatch.”

“Then come with me. I’ll be your plus one.”

Mercy’s features scrunched up as she thought about it, then softened as she reached a decision.

“Fine, I’ll come. But we have to be careful, Jack would not be happy if he found out about this.”

McCree gave her a tired smile. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

 

* * *

 

The Cabaret Luna was packed. Most of the people seemed actually quite familiar: all either rich, powerful, or associated with a large organization akin to Overwatch. McCree had either met or read a file on almost every person in the lounge, though he’d be hard pressed to remember a single one of their names if you pointed a gun to his head. He had expected the cybernetic couple to stand out in the crowd, seeing as though they were both half computer, but surprisingly they blended in quite well. The lounge was full of machinery, both in the form of omnics as well as humans with various prosthetic enhancements. For once McCree felt thankful for his mechanical arm; in this one particular scenario it actually helped him blend in instead of attract attention.

He and Mercy stood against a back wall of the cabaret, trying to remain as out of sight as possible. McCree scanned the crowd until his eyes found Genji seated at a small table, dressed in a sleek black suit. His head was swaying slightly along with the music and he had an air of ease to him, far removed from the stoic, angsty Blackwatch partner he remembered. McCree glanced at the woman seated next to him and his breath caught in his throat. It was Sombra, but she didn’t look like herself. She was wearing an elegant black gown and a long black wig styled in a thick braid that rested softly against her back (covering the hardware McCree knew lined her spine). Her eyes were masked by green contacts, which while pretty, did not hold a candle to the purple. She sat with one hand wrapped around Genji’s bicep, the other holding a glass of ruby wine, as she spoke quietly to the cyborg. McCree knew that her display of affection was merely part of their disguise, but he couldn’t help but be annoyed by it. He was more annoyed however, upon seeing Genji place his hand on top of hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles, as he leaned in to hear what she was saying.

McCree knew he could only be so upset though, considering that he himself was standing with Mercy on his arm, the two of them attempting to mimic the same false image of lovers that Sombra and Genji were putting on. Normally that shouldn’t have been a problem for McCree, but he was not in a great mood after observing the digital duo, and honestly Angela felt too much like a sister to effectively pull it off. They didn’t have the magnetic chemistry that Sombra and Genji seemed to be exhibiting so effortlessly. McCree snuck a glance over at Angela and noticed she shared his look of irritation, but neither said a word so as not to be called out for their hypocrisy. McCree grabbed a drink off a passing waiter’s platter, tipping him generously in return. It was going to be a long night.

After another hour of unremarkable music (McCree was more of a country fan), the show ended and the guests all rose from their seats and began mingling amongst themselves. Genji and Sombra stayed seated a moment longer than most, discussing something that McCree had no chance of hearing. As they stood up, Genji put an arm around Sombra’s waist and lead her to a group of older businessmen, closer to where McCree was standing. He and Mercy sulked deeper into the shadows of the hall, their ears perked to listen in to the conversation. Genji introduced Sombra to the men as his girlfriend ‘Valeria’, and McCree immediately felt a chill run down his spine. He glared daggers at the hacker, but she had her back turned to him. ‘Valeria’ was too busy charming the men, her good looks and silver tongue doing wonders to keep them entertained while Genji called the bartender over to top up their drinks. McCree couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to.

After about 20 more agonizing minutes of watching, Angela leaned over to let McCree know she was heading to the bathroom. He barely paid attention to her, only letting out a small ‘mhm’ in response. With Mercy gone, McCree ordered two more drinks from a passing waiter. The man came back with the drinks, and McCree exchanged them for however much loose cash he had in his pocket. Must have been a lot, considering how brightly the waiter beamed as he counted the money. The man turned to leave but McCree stopped him, downed both drinks in two swift gulps, and gave the empty glasses back. The cowboy certainly wasn’t happy with himself or proud of his actions, but he really needed the liquid support. He decided that would be his limit for the night, lest he actually get drunk and ruin his relationship with Overwatch the same way he did with Sombra.

Speaking of Sombra, McCree turned back to look at the group, cursing himself for how he felt his face heat up upon laying his eyes on her again (he could blame it on the alcohol, but that would probably be worse). He watched as Sombra stood on her toes and whispered something to Genji. The pair then excused themselves from the group, Sombra giving polite hugs to the men they had been speaking with while Genji stood back and shook their hands. McCree kept his gaze on the couple as they headed towards the back of the lounge, Sombra walking ahead and pulling Genji along by the hand. McCree frantically looked around, realizing that he didn’t even see where Mercy had gone off to, and hoping desperately that she would return within the next few seconds. She didn’t, and McCree made the executive decision to tail the duo without her, crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t get in trouble for the decision later.

He quietly followed his targets back through the crowd and up an ‘Employees Only’ staircase, being sure keep ample distance between himself and them. He felt a strange sense of deja vu as he climbed the steps, fully expecting to see a hallway full of bodies at the top floor. He didn’t, the second floor hallway was completely bare, though the memory of Venice flashed in his mind all the same. He shook away the thought and tried to focus. The hallway was lined with doors: some closed, some left slightly ajar. McCree heard a door at the end of the hallway click shut and his eyes snapped toward the sound. Slowly, he began walking along the hall, appreciative of how the luxurious material of the carpet, combined with the music from the floor below worked to mask the sound of his steps. As McCree passed one of the open doors he was able to just barely make out the contents of the dark space. These were bedrooms; it seemed this lounge wasn’t nearly as classy as it had lead on to be. What were Overwatch people doing here? McCree did everything he could to concentrate on being quiet so as not to let his mind think about what he could be potentially walking in on. He finally got to the last two closed hallway doors, one on either side of him. He tried to remember which side of the hall the sound had come from, but he came up short. He mentally flipped a coin and picked the left, slowly placing his ear on the door.

“Something I can help you with, McCree?” Sombra’s voice rung out from the room directly behind him. It took all of his willpower not to slam his hand against the wall in frustration.

McCree turned around and rested his hand on the correct door’s handle, taking a deep breath as he did so. He shoot one more look down the hallway, praying that Mercy would show up, before he swallowed his pride and flung the door open. Whatever he was expecting, he was wrong. Sombra was sitting on a lounge chair typing a mile a minute on a small laptop, while Genji leaned against a pillar of the canopy bed, arms crossed and waiting - they were the picture of professionalism. McCree felt stupid for expecting anything less.

“McCree.” Genji’s salutation was robotic. Fitting.

McCree returned the kind words. “Genji.”

The cowboy turned the look at the hacker, who seemed to be too engrossed in her computer screen to pay him any mind. After a minute of waiting he cleared his throat and she finally looked up and met his eyes. He wasn’t expecting the wave of feeling that washed over him, but all at once he was enveloped in a mix of contradicting emotions. Excitement, hurt, curiosity, guilt, anger, concern, resentment, and something else. Something small and soft that was creeping through him in the shadow of the others. He pushed it back down.

“Enjoying the event? I saw you down two drinks in ten seconds. I’ll give you points for efficiency.”

McCree was trying to figure out when she first spotted him, but realized that had she made eye contact he definitely would’ve remembered it.

“I’m sure you have a great explanation as to what you’re doing here.” She continued, sounding bored.

“I’m here on Overwatch business.” He replied, trying to replicate her casual tone.

“I already have a chaperone, thanks. I don’t need two.” She looked back at her laptop and McCree felt instant relief being out of her intense stare.

Almost on cue, Mercy finally walked into the room, pistol aimed out in front of her. Her eyes were frantic, but relaxed as soon as she caught sight of her friends, safe. She put the gun down.

Genji reacted immediately, failing to hide his surprise. “Angela?”

Sombra looked up from her laptop and laughed. “Am I really that dangerous that you had to send the whole team? Honestly I’m flattered.”

“You are that dangerous.” Angela spoke up, unable to hide her aggravation with the whole situation. She shared a concerned glance with Genji.

Sombra stopped typing. “Look, I don’t care if you trust me or not.” She shot a pointed look at McCree before turning back to Angela. “I made a deal with Jack. He held up his end of the bargain, I’m holding up mine. I’d recommend not getting in the way.”

McCree realized he still didn’t know what she was doing here. “And what exactly did he promise you?”

“A meeting. Which is done now.”

“What sort of meeting?”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Shouldn’t you know this already?”

“Just answer the question.”

“With Mario Diaz. Happy?”

“Who?” McCree could start to feel the liquor running through his system. Should he know who that is? He wasn’t sure.

“His family used to own Don Rombotico Distillery.” She spoke offhandedly as she went back to typing.

“Why would he offer you that?” McCree was getting agitated now, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. He wished for a moment that he were alone with Sombra so they could speak candidly.

“So I could swipe this.” She held up a brown leather wallet. “Don’t worry, I’ll return it.”

Sombra went back to typing for a minute, before stopping abruptly. She smiled at the screen in front of her. Genji leaned over to see what she was looking at, but by the look on his face McCree assumed the cyborg couldn’t decipher laptop’s content.

Sombra smirked at Mercy and McCree. “I just found Maximilien for you. You’re welcome.”

“What? How?” Mercy’s shock told McCree that this was exactly the sort of information they’d been looking for. No wonder Jack was willing to work with Sombra.

“What’s in it for you?” The cowboy asked deaf ears as the hacker packed up her things, sliding the small laptop into her purse. McCree watched as she tossed Genji a USB stick, completely ignoring his question.

“Give that to Winston. Copies of everything I went through on Diaz, and a video of the process so you know I’m not _lying_.” She dragged out the word, a slight bitterness seeping through in her voice that McCree was sure only he caught. And then she was instantly back to her playful self. “No monkey business, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” McCree huffed.

“I’m not going to. It’s none of your business.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little suspicious to you?” McCree turned to Mercy, confident she would take his side. And she did, her eyes narrowing at Sombra. Just as Angela was about to say something, Sombra spoke up.

“You know you’re really starting to piss me off, McCree.” The hostility in her voice immediately brought him back to that night in her hotel room. For a second it felt like it was just the two of them again, and this moment was potentially a do-over. He wanted to back off, but Angela spoke before he had the chance.

“He’s right. What are you up to?” Her patience was wearing thin.

Sombra’s was thinner. She turned to look at Mercy. “Was it McCree’s idea to tail me tonight? I’m going to take a blind guess and say it was.”

Mercy was taken aback. “What does it matter?”

“Did you ever ask yourself why he distrusts me so much? How he even knows me?”

“You work for Talon.” McCree piped up, hoping to derail the conversation but instantly realizing that was a bad idea.

Sombra was relentless. “And you’re a wanted outlaw, but here we are both working for Overwatch. Are we both villains then, or is it just me?”

McCree had nothing to say to that.

The room was silent. Sombra held McCree’s eyes for a moment before getting up to head back downstairs.

In a soft voice, Mercy asked, “So how do you two know each other?”

McCree could feel the sweat building on his back as stared holes into the side of Sombra’s head, but she didn’t return his gaze. Instead, she gave Angela the most sickly sweet smile McCree had ever seen and all but sung her response-

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I’ve slept with your date.”

-before sauntering past them and back down the hall, completely ignoring the tsunami left in her wake.

The air in the room was so dense you could slice it with a knife. Genji stayed only a second longer, shaking out of his stunned stupor and rushing to catch up to the hacker after remembering his mission. Which left Mercy and McCree, the former eyes wide and brows high in shock, and the latter eyes closed and brows furrowed in frustration.

“How am I going to explain this to Jack?” She choked out.

McCree let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“You’re not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I hope you guys enjoy. They won't stay mad at each other forever, I promise!! 
> 
> Also, I'm thinking of starting a series of one shots based on their matching in-game skins. Let me know if you'd be interested in that! (I won't be abandoning this fic though, just starting another one)
> 
> As always, leave a comment if you enjoyed it or have any requests/suggestions, it really makes my day! <3


	5. Are We Okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra's still working for Overwatch, and McCree still has no idea what to feel.

To everyone’s surprise, Sombra was incredibly cooperative. She went back to base with Genji and even sat down with Jack and explained what she felt was going on with Maximillien and how to catch him. Everything was seeming too easy, but Jack couldn’t find a trace of Talon anywhere near Havana, so they weren’t too concerned. Still, McCree couldn’t understand what sort of intel Sombra had given Jack to make him trust her word so much, to bring her into Overwatch quarters at all. He wanted to ask, but McCree doubted the captain would tell him. 

No one seemed to have caught wind of his previous relationship to the hacker. Mercy was highly concerned about the implications of McCree’s affair, but to her credit she kept her mouth shut and convinced Genji to do the same. She had her own eyes on the hacker, though she was busy prepping for the upcoming Havana mission. 

Mercy, Genji, Tracer, and Winston made up the elite team being sent out to find Maximillien. Jack and Sojourn were going to stay in a remote location in Cuba and guide them through the storm, alongside a sizeable group of Overwatch soldiers in order to account for any ‘errors’ in Sombra’s coordinates for the shady accountant. McCree was sitting this one out. Jack wanted to keep him as far out of the public eye as possible lest Talon know they have the vigilante cowboy working for them again - the captain being blissfully unaware that Sombra had already encountered him.

The mission in Havana was expedited, but very well thought out; they had backup plans upon backup plans. And Sombra was being kept on base until the mission was over to hold her accountable for its results, being monitored the full duration of her stay.

The morning of the mission was hectic. Soldiers were crowding all areas of the base, getting their gear and heading for the planes to Cuba. McCree sat in the cafeteria for over an hour, sipping bitter coffee and watching their boots stomp by. Once all of the planes had left, and the place had quieted down, McCree took some time to roam the building. 

He deliberately walked by the 'guest' quarters a few times, though not allowing himself to even look in the direction of the hacker’s room. Rather, he spent some time in the depths of the building, saying hello to cleaning staff while dodging their massive carts on his way through the bowels of Overwatch HQ. He eventually stumbled upon the room he was subconsciously headed to: the surveillance room. Two tired looking men sat melted into the fabric of their rolling chairs, mindlessly scanning the countless monitors lighting up the room. McCree gave them a charming hello and asked how their day was going, smiling and pretending to care as his eyes slowly traveled from screen to screen. He took his time, savouring the anticipation of seeing her again. He knew he should be staying away from her, especially after Paris, but now that his secret was (fairly) out in the open, his sense of fear was diminishing.  _ That’s not a good thing _ . He chastised himself, but the reminder was not enough to stop his stubborn mind from looking. 

Purple. He noticed the purple before anything else. There she was, lying on a cheap bed in her assigned room, fast asleep. McCree looked at the time - almost noon - and back at her in disbelief. Honestly, he was thankful she slept at all. One of the security men noticed McCree’s gaze and chuckled.

“She’s a funny one, that girl.” 

“How so?” McCree responded.

“Well, they told me to ring the alarms if I worry she’s going to try to hack our systems, but I haven’t seen her pull out a computer once, not that we allowed her one anyway.”

McCree frowned. “What about the glowing purple screen? She can…” -he waved his hands in front of himself- “conjure them somehow.”

“Yeah, captain mentioned. None of that either; she’s been completely normal.”

The other man piped up. “Oh, show him what she did yesterday!”

The first man laughed heartily and pulled up a feed of Sombra’s room from the previous day, and McCree stood back and watched as he scrolled through the video to find the perfect spot. When he pressed play, even McCree couldn’t help but chuckle at the footage. Sombra was dancing around the room with her hair tied up, sporting a pair of pyjamas that OW staff would’ve lent her. She looked kind of adorable, grooving to a beat the cameras couldn’t capture. 

“One of the most notorious criminals in the world spends her free time dancing in her room.” The first man said as he closed the window. “She’s more fun that I thought she would be.”

“Hm.” McCree redirected his attention back to her sleeping image. For once her smirk was gone and she looked rather innocent. So different from the woman he knew, who invited danger with every breath she took. It was during this careful examination of her resting features that McCree noticed something the other two men missed - a glitch. It was subtle, a single tuft of hair shifted its position too rapidly to be natural, but McCree’s keen eyes caught it nonetheless. The security guards were still talking, discussing some drama around the base that the cowboy couldn’t care less about. McCree chipped in occasionally to seem like he was interested in the conversation, but his eyes remained on the screen. It took only two minutes before he caught the glitch again. McCree’s jaw dropped for just a second before he cleared his throat, remembering the men in front of him.  _ But if she isn’t sleeping, what's she up to?   _ She could be on a laptop, but she wasn’t allowed one. She could be doing something on her little purple holograms, but what? Why would she even stick around? She could’ve easily disappeared after the Paris mission, but she didn’t. She must need to be at Overwatch. 

Sombra had set up the Havana mission to be conducted immediately after Paris, and that mission required a few key members of OW, as well as a ton of their soldiers, to be off base. He thought about who was currently away. Sombra didn’t really seem to have any involvement with Genji, Mercy, Winston, or Tracer, and while she had made some secret trade with Jack, there wasn’t really much he could give her beyond what she’d asked for. Wait, no. _Winston_ did have something on her - that USB surveying her peek into Mario Diaz’s files. 

McCree found the screen displaying Winston’s lab. It was empty. He looked harder, eyes burning holes in every pixel on the screen... and then he saw it. So slight that if you blinked you’d miss it. A window in the back of the lab showed the edges of a tree swaying in the wind, when all of a sudden that tree disappeared from the frame, only to sway back into the window moments later. The videos were being looped. 

McCree bid the men good day and excused himself, his boots dragging him toward Winston’s lab before he had the chance to stop himself. He looked around the base as he walked, taking in how deserted the place was. He hadn’t realized until this moment just how many of their staff were in Cuba on this mission. He spotted the door to the lab and kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him as he opened it and waltzed in. 

 

He heard her before he saw her - long nails typing at lightning speed against plastic keys. He raised his head to look at her. She was sitting on a large rolling chair, completely indifferent to his presence. So much so, that McCree almost thought she might not have noticed him, but then he looked up and saw himself in her own security feed. She had the surveillance feeds of every surrounding room playing above her, including the room they were currently in, and the room McCree had just come from. He should’ve suspected that.

McCree stood there for a few minutes and just watched her. His instincts told him to stop whatever she was doing, but all of a sudden it felt like he had no energy left. 

She broke the silence so he didn’t have to,  “Did you just come to hang out?”

McCree sighed, “I hadn’t really thought it through this far.”

“Must have something to say, given the effort trying to find me.”

McCree glanced back at the monitors - so she had been watching him then. 

She continued, still typing away, “Hope you enjoyed the dancing, I thought those security guards might get bored watching me sleep for two days straight.” 

“They thought it was cute.” He fiddled with his peacekeeper as it sat in its holster. "You tryna blow up the place?" 

"Nope."

"Right then." He bore holes in the back of her head, desperately wishing she would face him.  “I don’t really have much to say. What do you say to someone that hates ya?”

Sombra stopped typing. She turned her chair slightly to the side and McCree caught her eyes in the reflection of the screen, calculating. 

“In order to hate someone you have to think about them at all, which I don’t.”

She was trying to be hurtful. He couldn’t even blame her.

He cleared his throat. “Well what do you say to someone ya hate?”

Sombra snorted and resumed typing. “Sure.”

“Why’s that funny?” He huffed.

“You don’t hate me.”

“You don’t get to decide that. Maybe I do hate ya.”

“I’m not deciding. Fact is, you don’t,  _ vaquero _ . If you hated me I’d be dead by now.”

McCree crossed his arms - fair point, “Well I never said I did, anyway.”

Sombra let out a deep sigh, “I’m not mad at you, McCree.” 

The quiet sincerity in her voice caught him off guard, “...After Paris I thought-”

“You were worried about your friends, I get it.” He tried to catch her eye in the screen’s reflection again, but she was looking away. The empty sound of nails on a keyboard filled the room. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of here. You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“Where are you going?” No answer. He looked back at the computer. “Okay, then tell me what you’re doing.”

Her tone switched back to playful, if a bit irritated, “You know, I gave Jack a fair deal. He wanted Maximillien’s location, and I wanted a meeting.  _ Equitativo _ . But then he demands all of the info I got off of Diaz right before the mission. So here, I’m being good and leaving him most of the crap data, but I’m taking it back what I need.” She pointed a long nail at the USB stick inserted into the computer. McCree recognized it from Paris.

“Why would Jack do that?”

“I offered him information in order to let me join you guys. But he wasn’t satisfied with what he got, now he wants more. I’m guessing this is his idea of leverage.”

McCree wanted to believe that Jack was above that, but the man hadn’t been himself since Reyes left Overwatch. He didn’t doubt Sombra’s story.  “I’m sure Winston already went through it.”

“I expected that, that’s why I gave him every single file to ever be on Diaz’s computer. Cancun Vacation photos, 40 year old browser history, decades of Minesweeper scores, it’s all there. I watched him sift through it last night, he fell asleep looking at bank statements from 2004. I’m not concerned.”

Once again McCree couldn’t help but chuckle at her brilliance. Sombra finally turned around at the sound. 

“What?” She inquired, a single eyebrow raised. 

“I just don’t know what the hell to do about you, darlin’.”

“ _ Que _ ?”

“I don’t know how to feel about you. I thought for sure I hated you back in Paris.”

“You don’t hate me, McCree.”

“I know.” 

“You just hate Talon.”

“Then quit.” She was silent. He couldn’t decipher her expression. After a moment, he continued. “I know it’s a selfish thing to ask, but quit. Overwatch would take you in a heartbeat. We could treat you well here.”

“That’s not why I’m with them. There are much bigger things going on in the world than Talon or Overwatch, Talon’s just closer.”

“Talon doesn’t deserve you.”

“Ha. You say that like I’m their top employee. They still think I’m in Dorado.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Hacking into the firewall of the US embassy. Gave me two weeks to do it.”

“How long did it really take you?”

She got up from her seat and pulled out the USB, slipping it into her pocket. “The walk here from my room.”

McCree gave her a full blown grin. “That’s the kinda thing I’m talking about. Your talents are being wasted on the wrong side, Sombra.”

She leaned against the desk, biting her lip. She took a deep sigh. “Just so you know, there’s going to be an attack on Overwatch in the next fifteen minutes.” 

McCree was taken aback. “What? In Cuba?”

“Huh? No, here.”

McCree pulled out his weapon. “Sombra, if you-”

“Relax, McCree , just some null-sector fanboys, you guys can take ‘em. It’s cute, they’ve been planning it for a month.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Can’t have you stopping them before they get here, they’re my ticket out of here.” She said as she took one last look at the security footage before shutting down Winston’s computer. 

“That was part of your plan? Use Overwatch to play Talon, then play Overwatch?”

“You catch on fast, McCree, keep it up.”

“Then who are you really loyal to?”

Her eyes hardened. “Me.”

“That all?”

“Taking me home one night six years ago doesn’t make you my ally.”

“I’m not your enemy.” She was silent, so he kept going, “I reckon you don’t trust me, then?”

“Is that surprising?”

It wasn’t. McCree thought for a minute.

She continued when he didn’t. “Well the break-in is happening soon, so I’m gonna head out. Anyone you need to alert?”

“Is someone going to get hurt, now or in the future, because of this?”

“Nah, they’re nothing. It’s a pretty hack mission.” She scrunched up her nose. “Ugh, pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Then Overwatch can sort it out themselves. Is there anything else you need?”

“You really want to help me?”

“I owe ya at least that.”

She looked at him quizzically for a moment before asking, “How good are you at driving?”

 

* * *

 

They made it to the employee parking garage a mere two minutes before the strike. Sombra walked through the space casually, as if she weren’t a prisoner on the loose. McCree followed cautiously behind, eyes darting around the facility, looking for any sign of the gray and yellow Overwatch logo. 

“You can put your gun away,  _ vaquero _ . They’re not going to be looking for me.”

McCree wasn’t convinced. “What makes you so sure?”

A high-pitched alarm suddenly blared through the overheard speakers, making McCree flinch and reach for his weapon. Sombra didn’t seem fazed at all. 

She just smirked in his direction and pulled up one of her purple hexagons, which showed footage security footage of the break-in attempt on the other side of the building. “They’re a little busy right now.”

“Right.” McCree wasn’t sure how she managed to stay so cavalier, but accepted that he would likely be in more trouble if they got caught than she would. “I’m trusting you’ve dealt with all the security cameras here?”

“Already covered.” She mumbled offhandedly as she looked through the driver’s side window of a car. 

“Good. ‘Preciate it.”

Looking satisfied, Sombra raised her hand, and in a flash of light, the car’s doors swung open. McCree expected her to get in, but instead she walked around the car and entered from the passenger side. He took his place in the driver’s seat, trying to ignore the siren’s still blazing in his ear. 

Sombra was fiddling around with the car’s navigation screen, and all of the sudden the doors closed and the vehicle came to life. 

McCree kept surveying the garage while Sombra worked, "Those guys breaking in-"

"Some omnic group. Wannabe _Los Meurtos_ , if you ask me. I think they tried breaking into Talon a while back, seriously they were nothing."

"Gotcha. That makes me feel better."

"Good." Sombra finished messing with the car's controls and sat up. She adjusted the angle of her seat so it reclined back and stretched her arms out behind her head. 

McCree fastened his seatbelt and awaited instructions. “So… what’s the plan then?”

Sombra flashed him a coy smile. “Drive.”

All at once the parking garage gate opened and the car whipped forward, with McCree’s feet nowhere near the pedals. It took every ounce of his focus to get his hands on the wheel and control the already moving car. He was about to yell at Sombra for the completely reckless move before he heard her laughing in her seat next to him, completely candid and obnoxiously loud. As the car’s speed slowed and McCree was properly able to control it, he felt himself laughing too. 

They sped out of the parking garage and onto a small side street. He looked over and Sombra had put her feet on the dashboard, grinning ear to ear as she watched the road. He wasn’t sure what expression he had on his own face but whatever it was must have been amusing, because when she finally turned his way she immediately chuckled and stuck her tongue out at him. 

They made their way onto the main road, driving away from OW HQ. When he looked back at her, her expression had shifted. Her brows were furrowed as she studied the rearview mirror.

McCree tried to keep his eyes on the road, “Everythin’ alright, darlin’?”

Sombra pulled up her screens again, scanning some footage that McCree couldn’t see. “Something feels off.”

“How so?” 

“There were only supposed to be a couple of bots breaking in, it should’ve been nothing for your guys to handle.”

“And?”

“The alarms are still going off. Look.” She pointed to the mirror. McCree took a look and sure enough, he could see a red alarm flashing just inside a window of the building. 

“What does that mean?”

Before she could answer, a storm of omnics rushed out the main doors of Overwatch, stepping into awaiting vehicles as Overwatch staff followed them out with guns blazing. 

“ _ Mierda. _ ”

“Shit Sombra, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

Omnic cars began driving away from the building, in their direction. Some poor Overwatch staff were running after them on foot, while others waited for their vehicles to be deployed. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Sombra was frantically analyzing her hexagons, eyes darting back and forth between her screen and the mirror.

"Is this part of the plan?"

"No, I don't-"

“I gotta turn around.” McCree decided. 

She put her hand on the steering wheel. “Wait, no." She thought about it for a moment, "I have a plan.” 

Sombra clicked a button above their heads and the car’s sunroof opened above them. 

“You can’t take them all down by yourself.”

“I won’t have to, I’ll just make it easier for your guys.”

“How?” McCree asked. Sombra just ignored him as she fiddled with something in her pocket, eventually pulling out a glowing purple device. His mind was divided between watching the road, the mirror, and the device. “Fine, then at least tell me what I need to do.”

She looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “I already told you, drive.” 

Sombra chucked the device through the sunroof well into the sky behind them. McCree watched it fly in the rearview mirror until it was a speck of dust in his vision. Then, the car was filled with a bright purple light as Sombra de-materialized out of it. McCree nearly swerved off the road as he caught sight of a massive orb of purple filling the entirety of the sky behind him. The last thing he saw before turning into a nearby alleyway was every car behind him stopping abruptly, and omnics falling out of the vehicles spasming and sparking as Overwatch officers rushed to their sides. 

 

In the alleyway, McCree pulled over and stepped outside the car, Peacekeeper held out before him. He waited by the alley entrance for a stray omnic to pass by, but after two minutes of nothing happening, he peeked around the edge of the wall. The Overwatch team seemed to have the situation under control, the sense of panic and urgency now faded away as they working on restraining the escaped perpetrators.

“Thought I told you to drive?” 

McCree turned to see Sombra materialize on the other side of the alley, panting and sweaty. He put his gun away and approached her. 

She dusted off her clothes and made her way back towards the car as she spoke. “Well that was a bit of a mess, but it looks like everything’s under contr-”

McCree grabbed her by the waist, pressing her against the door like he should’ve done 6 years ago in Castillo, and silencing her with a fiery kiss. She returned it with the same fire, her hands reaching up to grab his face and her legs hiking herself up the length of the car so they could make closer contact. They continued like this for a minute, every touch feeling icy and impossibly hot at the same time, before Sombra interrupted with an unwanted reminder. 

“I hate to be the one to say it, but this probably isn’t the best time for this.”

McCree responded between peppered kisses on her jaw, “Why’s that?”

The sound of sirens answered his question as a police cruiser drove past the alley towards the Overwatch building. 

Sombra sighed, “They’re looking for me.”

"Damn it." McCree brushed a strand of her out of her face. “Where ya headed then?”

"Probably South." Sombra thought for a second. “Actually maybe north, not sure if they’d-”

“You could always stay at my place.” McCree interjected.

The comment caught Sombra off guard, as was clear from her wide eyes.

McCree continued, “Little ranch in Texas. It’s not much, but you can see the stars at night. I think you’d like it.” He tried not to be hurt by her lack of response. “And I don’t think they’d come looking for you there.”

After a moment Sombra spoke up, but it wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. “You shouldn’t give away information like that,  _ vaquero _ .”

“I trust you.”

“Too easily.”

He wasn’t sure why she was still being cautious, but the distant sound of more sirens didn’t give him much time to question it. “Well if ya ever need a place to go, it’s open to ya.”

“Thanks,” She didn’t look completely confident in her words. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Sombra stepped away from McCree awkwardly, and looked back out toward the alley. “You should get back. Forget about the car, they’ll figure it was part of the attack.”

“Got it.” McCree replied as he holstered his gun, ready to head out. He noticed her shifting awkwardly in place and decided to put her out of her misery. “You should go, they probably noticed you missing by now.”

She flashed him a reserved smile. “Yup. See ya ‘round,  _ vaquero _ .” And with a wave of her hand she disappeared in a flash of pixels. In the empty air he heard her distant voice say, “And tell Jack his friend is back." Then the alley was devoid of even the sound of her footsteps, shrouded only in a lonely silence. 

McCree didn’t know what to make of her words, but figured it didn’t matter. He walked back to Overwatch HQ alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait pals, this chapter was really hard to write for some reason! happy holidays!!


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